


If You Say Goodbye

by Doctorinblue



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who, Awesome Donna Noble, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/pseuds/Doctorinblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was the first breath of happiness, of anything close to happiness he had felt in some time, and she had said no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was like waking up again. It was as if the suns that had ceased to shine when the last petal fell from his grasp, had suddenly burst back into life. She was the first breath of happiness, of anything close to happiness he had felt in sometime, and she had said no.

The Doctor closed the door slowly behind him, turning to face the console. He ran his hands down his face, slowly sliding down the door. His bones felt thin and wispy, losing all solidity at her final words.

Donna Nobel's world was going to keep on going. She would go inside, and reassure her family that she wasn't as lost as it had seemed. She didn't need him to carry her world along, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't think he needed her.

But his words held no power, and he couldn't make her come along with him. He couldn't stop her from walking away, more than he could stop anything else that tore another bit of him away, from happening.

He longed to cry. To feel that release, but he had jammed so many barriers up that he couldn't seem to tear them all back down.

His hearts beat. He took a breath. This was his life now. Another path he didn't see coming, another moment he couldn't decide if it would have been better to have avoided from the start.

The Doctor slowly climbed to his feet, the door behind him marking the end of something, though he wasn't quite sure what just yet.

He threw a lever, and flipped a switch. Another step, another reminder of just how empty the TARDIS was. And if he ran forever, he'd still never escape the man he had become. The choice he had made hang lower than it had in some time, silence battering his brain, until he felt a scream rip its way from his lips.

He slammed his hands against the console, again and again. His palms ached, and the skin grew red and tender.

"Why!" he screamed out, dropping his hands to his side.

He looked up, seeing past the TARDIS. The universe owed him an answer, but it didn't care to fill him in. Finally, he crumbled. He slipped to the ground, leaning against the console.

There was no point in it all anymore. The universe was going to carry on, even if he wasn't out there. What was the point in trying to repay a debt that was never going leave- when scar tissue was all that you were made up of anymore?

So, he closed his eyes. He dropped his head, and knew what he had to do. He'd walk away, before he touched something else and watched it shatter beneath his shaking hands.

DW

The dress was the first thing she saw, in a white pile of lies, laying where she had shed it in exhaustion.

Donna brushed the hair back from her face, and glanced at the clock. It was too early to be awake, but closing her eyes only brought up the faces of the ones who had looked on her with pity last night.

First, the Doctor. He hadn't told her she should have seen Lance's lies, but she wondered if he had thought it.

Then her parents, after she fed them a lie of her own. He'd left her behind, another woman. Well, it wasn't all a lie.

Her mother had been kind, as kind as she ever was, and the night hadn't gone too badly.

She'd been sent up to bed, right after dinner. Her mother had fussed, and for a moment, she forgot she was an adult. She forgot she should have a house of her own, or a flat. She should be making something of herself, and she was just able to walk up the stairs.

But reality wasn't going to stay at bay, and she pulled herself up. She moved into the bathroom, washing the past off her face, and looking at herself.

Her eyes were swollen, from tears she had only shed in private. And her cheeks were too pale, but she rubbed her hands over them, and walked out to dress.

If Donna knew anything, it was how to pretend to be something you weren't. And she could do that until she felt normal again, until she thought she had really gotten over Lance.

Until she had gotten over the look in the Doctor's face, when he had to pretend he wasn't upset when she had said no.

Donna moved off down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She added water to the coffee pot, and headed outside to gather up the paper.

She looked around the waking neighborhood, and wondered if any of them really understood what had happened yesterday. It felt like a dream, and she knew that she wasn't ever going to wake from it.

She reached down, picking up the paper. Donna was turning back for the house when she saw car in front of the house that had been for sale for at least a year. She shook her head, only stopping again, when two men walked out. They shook hands, one of them started to walk way. Donna squinted, trying to make out a face of the one that stayed on the front step. She was certain that it couldn't be him.

He was in space, he was off doing something dangerous. Maybe at the dawn of another new planet, with another girl at his side. She didn't know what he did with his life, but she was certain it didn't involve the empty house down the street.

"Donna!" Sylvia called out. "Hurry up. I'm starting breakfast."

Donna blinked, and headed for the house. She moved inside, closing the cold outside behind her.

"Looks like someone is moving in down the street," Donna said, looking at her mother.

"It's been empty forever," Sylvia said, taking the paper and heading for the kitchen without another word.

"Perhaps we should make something," Donna said. "Go meet the neighbors. Be polite."

Sylvia raised her eye brows, pouring herself some coffee.

"It's a man, isn't it?" Sylvia asked, sitting down. "Don't you think it's a bit soon to be looking for someone else?"

Donna poured herself a mug, keeping her back to her mother. It seemed whatever pass she had been granted last night, was expired.

"We'll go later," Sylvia said to Donna's back.

Donna glanced back at her mother. Sylvia was already searching the paper. Donna found a smile she didn't think she was capable of and even when Sylvia brought up the thought of looking for a new job, Donna didn't flinch.

Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she intended to satisfy it. She was tired of just existing, of being used, and now was the time for change.

And if it turned out it wasn't the Doctor-which was likely- then she would have met the new neighbor anyway.

It was a small adventure, but it would satisfy the itch she found in her soul.


	2. Chapter 2

Donna smoothed down the fabric of her top, the material soft and comforting against the skin of her palms. She was standing before her mirror, burning time, while knowing that her mother was waiting impatiently for her at the bottom of the stairs.

Donna let out a sigh, and looked herself over. There had been little that could be done for her swollen eyes, but she had rubbed her cheeks until they held a satisfactory tint.

She wasn't aiming to be pleasing to the eye, despite what her mother had suggested, Donna simply wanted to feel alive. She wanted to feel awake.

She wanted to feel human.

Human.

Her mouth twitched at the fresh memory, lying at the surface of her mind. Her shock when he had claimed he was an alien, didn't surprise her. Her quick acceptance of it did.

Because despite the pain, Lance wasn't all together wrong about her priorities. She had spent a lot of time focused on things there weren't important to the bigger picture.

The Doctor had seemed so human though, especially compared to the giant spider that had tried to unleash her children on the Earth.

If Donna didn't work to stop the sound, the screams of anguish from last night still echoed around her skull. The fear of last night, of him, hadn't faded in the light of day, but her perspective on it seemed to have changed. She felt like maybe that fear was something that should be harnessed, that should burn within her, and be the change she was looking for in her life.

Of course, if it wasn't the Doctor who moved in after all, she was at a loss as to what her next step would be to return to his life. Or if she even should.

"Donna!" Sylvia called up the stairs, causing the faint ache in Donna's head to flare up.

She felt as if she had spent the entire night drinking, but instead of embarrassment and maybe a few laughs to balance out the feeling of unease, she had heartache, and regret.

Donna let out a sigh, looking herself over once more, before stepping away. She stepped over the dress, still where it lay, as she was unable to bring herself to lift it.

She glanced down at it, and knew that doing that, putting it away was stamping this all into reality- though she knew it already was real. Too real.

Lance was a liar. Now, he was a dead liar. She had no job. Her marriage, hell, the love was all a sham. At least on his part. She had been so blind not to see the deceit, yet she had stood there shocked, while the world she had been building dropped all around her. She may not have worn any other wounds but her insides felt like they had been torn apart, leaving her on the verge of gasping for air.

She felt like she was the rope in some great tug of war, where the need to give up, to lay down and quit was battling it out with the courage to carry on. It was still undecided which side had the better grip, but she had shed much of her self pity onto her pillow last night, and she hoped that leaving it where it lay was a good start.

She was just reaching the door when her mother called up to her again. Donna sighed, slipping out into the hall. Her father was out for the morning, granddad still resting up in bed. It was just her and her mother, and she had to face her to potentially get to him.

Her mother was waiting near the door, her face pulled tight in annoyance. Despite the late hour she had surely gotten to bed, she looked collected. Donna found herself envious of her mother's ability to simply exist in a way Donna had yet to get a handle on. She was tapping her foot, and holding out Donna's coat.

"I have plans, let's get this over with," she said, turning her back on Donna and opening up the door. "And don't forget to start thinking about getting back to work."

"I couldn't forget," Donna muttered, taking her coat and tugging it on. She slipped out past her mother, silently, wishing she had just decided to do this alone. The wind seemed to howl around her ears, and stung at her bare cheeks and hands. Her fingers began to stiffen, but she started off down the street.

To her surprise, and relief, her mother simply walked beside her, silently.

DW

The Doctor was stretched out on his newly purchased couch. He had been watching a comedy from the future- or at least he had been before he had fallen asleep. Now the sound blared out to a unaware audience.

His arm was hanging off the couch, fingers brushing against the carpet lightly.

He had fallen back asleep shortly after the estate agent had left, and was glad for the distraction that sleeping was providing. He had been doing a lot of it since he had arrived, and no nightmares had managed to claw their way up from the deepest seats of repression. Yet.

He didn't need to venture out of the house, or work. Years of spending time on Earth, providing services, and some wise decision- with a little foreknowledge- left him with accounts stacked with money. He had honestly left it all alone, expecting if a former companion- someone who had returned to a life on Earth- ever needed one last bit of help from him, he would be able to offer it easily.

Now, he had touched some of it, to purchase this house, and a large portion of the stuff in it. He had even gotten a bed, though he hadn't made it past the couch often enough to use it. And the TV had come from the TARDIS, already programmed to pick up far more channels than the stations of this year could dream of providing.

He had no need to go out and meet the neighbors. He had pulled food from the TARDIS, to stock the kitchen, but he hadn't used it, choosing to order in when he did decide it was time to eat.

The Doctor had only snuck to the window, with the lights off behind him. He peeked out, watching as the past him had made it snow for Donna. His mouth drew up, at the memory of the wonder in her eyes. It had made him so hopeful, and he couldn't bear to look when she walked away. He could understand, but it didn't make it easier.

The Doctor thought he heard knocking now, and jerked his head up. He sighed, rubbing at his face, and feeling around the couch cushion for the sonic. His fingers wrapped around it's cool outside, and he flicked through the settings with a practiced ease and pointed it in the direction of the sound.

The TV stayed on, two people hanging from a building, but the sound ceased.

The Doctor sat up, picking up a bit of leftover pizza crust from his chest, and tossing it in the general direction of the pizza box that hadn't made it to the bin. He pushed some newspapers off of the end of the couch- to join the others scattered around the room.

He had thought that maybe a story would catch his eye, draw up a reaction out of him, but he hadn't been able to concentrate long enough to get through the story- which he knew attested to his mental state with how little time it would take to accomplish a few paragraphs.

He was certain he heard another knock, and stood up, stepping over parts. Another potential project that had been reject early on in being here. He had initially thought that he could finally build all those things he had been too busy living to slow down for, but he didn't have the patience or the energy right now for any of them.

The Doctor shuffled to the door, pulling it open and peeking out. Daylight and cold air swept over him, rushing into fill his warm dark space, and he nearly slammed the door in response.

It was only the flash of red hair, that stayed his hand. He pulled open the door more.

Sylvia was standing there with Donna on the front steps. She looked over at Donna.

"Is this a joke?" Sylvia asked. "You brought me here for him?"

"I didn't know," Donna said, but her mother was already walking away muttering.

Donna watched her for a moment, before turning her attention back to the Doctor.

"You look like hell," she said, looking him over.

She didn't look especially surprised to see him, and he wondered when she had found out that he was so close to her. And if she was angry. He knew he wasn't trying to stalk her, this was the first he had seen of her, aside from peeking out the window, but he always wasn't quite sure how to justify his being here in the first place.

He cleared his throat, wiping crumbs from his shirt, and nodding. The Doctor ran a hand over his hair, wishing he had showered today, instead of sleeping.

"Come in," he said, moving to the side, after watching her rubbing red hands together.

He closed out the real world, with the door, letting Donna alone into the sanctuary he had made for himself. He led her into the living room, standing there awkwardly.

"Didn't come with lights?" she asked.

He sighed, loud enough for her to hear, but didn't know the last time he had been so thankful for words. And even with the little he knew of Donna, he was touched by her concern for him. He shuffled over, avoiding the clutter, and flipped the switch.

The room was flooded with the light, and he had to blink several times. She looked tired, weary, but beautiful all the same. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright despite all that had happened to dampen her world in the last bit of time. She looked lovely.

However, the room looked worse.

There was the trash and parts, and on the back of a chair, there was a leather jacket. Donna's eyes passed over it, because for her, there were no memories. For him, though, there were much too many.

He knew that he should be embarrassed about the state of himself, and the room. But all he felt was tired, so very tired.

"I'd like to hire you," he heard himself saying, without any real intention to voice the thought aloud.

"Excuse me?" Donna said, jerking her head to look at him. "Hire me for what?"

"You're out of work, right?" he said, cautiously. "And I'm a mess, clearly. Maybe we could work something out?"

She looked him over for a moment, silence hanging heavily against him to the point he almost collapsed.

"I'm making tea," she said, searching for the kitchen.

He pointed her in the right direction and watched her go. He found, that despite his desperation to be closed off from the universe, the thought of Donna being around was comforting.

The Doctor grabbed the jacket off the chair, and went to the TARDIS. He tossed the jacket in, and closed the door, wondering if he'd ever open it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Donna stood still. Her back was rigid, her palms pressed into the coolness of the counter top, trying to keep her weight on her feet- trying not to crumble. Her head was tucked to her chest, as tears ran down her cheeks, leaving dots of evidence on her shirt.

She wasn't okay. But that didn't mean she wouldn't ever be again. And this wasn't drowning in memories, or waves that threatened to pull her under with the weight of her current universe- this was just a storm she had to learn to swim in once more.

Donna could do that.

She slid her hands off the counter, and slumped her shoulders. She shuffled over to the table, settling into one of his chairs and wiping her eyes.

Moisture still lingered against her cheek, but this was a start. Another step, and she laid her head in hand, closing her eyes.

There were bright patches to this, even right now. The though of washing down the lump in her throat with a liquid she didn't wait to cool, sounded positive. And something a bit too warm would do wonders for the ache that lingered deep inside her chest, something she knew would only take more tears to ever really cease.

But for now- there was this. And a job offer. At first, she thought he was going for a laugh. Something to ease the moment, but she had seen the desperation in his eyes. He was lost, something that had happened before her-something at least partially to do with the girl who had worn the jacket- still hung around him, blocking his view of anything else.

And Donna didn't know what he could possibly need from her. A bit of house keeping, perhaps, but surely there was no need for her skills in this situation- the few that she had.

The idea of it wouldn't let her go though. It hung on until the word yes formed in her mind, and her tongue was willing to follow suit, however blindly.

Maybe this was all just two people trying to save themselves, she couldn't be certain. And it wasn't what she came for, but she found it wasn't something she minded leaving with.

Donna didn't know that either of them needed the dawn of the Earth, or giant spiders to feel alive right now. Maybe things really could begin again, in a little house, right here on Earth.

"Donna?" the Doctor asked softly. "Are you okay?"

She looked up to find him standing in the doorway. He was wearing a new shirt, still wrinkled up over his torso, but whiter than the last one he had on. His hair looked like an attempt had been made to take away the ruffled look of sleep-something she was certain she had interrupted when they had knocked.

He still had dark circles under his eyes, his weight shifting slightly from time to time. He was waiting on an answer, and she quickly drew her shoulders up once more.

She wanted to be angry, that he would even ask such a question, but she knew she wasn't truly angry. She was tired, and she was vulnerable.

But so was he. And right now, he looked so human she almost forgot. She almost forgot the TARDIS sitting in his living room, and the way he had seemed so cold last night that it had stolen her breath more than the snow.

It made Donna wonder if he was ever able to forget that he wasn't human after all. That maybe he was able to forget he wasn't the stranger here and that's why he had stayed here after all.

Sometimes blending in, was the closest to belonging anyone could hope for- Donna knew all about that.

"I'll take the job," she said, rising to her feet. "When do I start?"

DW

The Doctor reached out, wrapping his hand around the mug of tea. The very first thing made in this kitchen, and it was by her hand. He stood still, the warmth of the cup and the warmth of her seeping into the room, and into a tired old Time Lord, who had a bad run of luck...and a worse pile of decisions.

But for a moment, he thought he could be content if they never left this kitchen. He'd been planing on retracting his question. He'd make up something on the words way of falling from his lips, and it'd get him by- it always did.

She could walk away, and he could stay, until one of them found a different path. But then, she agreed.

He looked around the room, the only clean one he had left, and shuffled over to a chair, sitting down. His hearts eased their pounding when she did the same opposite of him.

He hadn't thought this idea through, wasn't sure what he actually needed her to do. There was no way he was going to ask her to clean, and he didn't think simply hiring her for company was something she could mention at the dinner table.

"You could start tomorrow," he said, placing his mug on the table softly, and shifting. "If you wanted, I mean. I...I have been meaning to organize rooms in the TARDIS forever."

That meant going back in, but she simply nodded. He wouldn't be alone, and he didn't have to go anywhere. And there were rooms of the TARDIS that could use a less chaotic mind to trample through.

Yes, it was a start.

He watched her, sipping her tea. She didn't make eye contact, and he didn't force conversation. Another name still hung in the back of his mind, but he refused to think of anything but Donna right now.

And until she rose to leave, zipping up her coat, they sat in a silence that wasn't as lonely as anything he had felt since he had arrived.

"I'll be here first thing in the morning," she said, heading for the door. "You should...shower...sleep."

"I will," he agreed.

The Doctor felt nervous and lost, and so many other things he didn't normally have to feel. He longed for the confidence to say anything, when she reached out, opening the blinds on a single window. Light poured in, stretching as far as it could across the floor.

He offered no objection, and she made no effort to light up anymore of his space.

She simply opened the door and stepped out.

Her back was to him, and words still needed to be said. The Doctor reached out, touching her arm with a brush of his fingertips.

"Donna?" he said, clearing his throat.

She turned to look back at him, and he took in a slow breath.

"Thanks," he said. "I just wanted to say thanks."

She paused a moment.

"You're welcome, Martian," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He waited until she was too far away, to crack a smile.

"I'm not from Mars, " he said, though he found he didn't mind the name, closing the door to block out the cold.


	4. Chapter 4

Nightmares clawed their way back to him, clinging to the weak parts of his mind that had already suffered too much to find the strength to throw them back off into the abyss. The Doctor could only escape them, fingers gripped the couch tightly, when he pulled his eyes open at last. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to form images in the paint, as he breath came in quick pants- shedding the past on every exhale, only to scramble to draw it back inside himself.

He knew he'd never be free of it all. He was still running, always had been running. And this all, the pain without measure and the loss, it was both his poison and his treatment, and the agony was sharp and kept him alive.

The Doctor often thought about a way to forget, to wipe away his memories and start fresh. But that would never do, not when he was the only one to remember. But now, he was regretting what he did have, this millionth chance not to make a mess of himself. And he didn't know how to stop falling.

But that was why Donna was coming- if she was still coming. He had risen before the sun but he didn't need light to know that the weather outside wasn't worth venturing into. The wind was throwing a tantrum, tossing falling leaves against the house, scrapping against the windows.

He couldn't blame her for not coming, not really.

He slowly sat up, using the sonic to turn on the light, and then off the television. The sound was overwhelming and made his head pound. He glanced over at the window, before climbing to his feet and shuffling over to look out.

He could see the closest trees, bending to the will of the wind, and thought of Donna. There was no snow, no white paths to ease the sting that would cover her cheeks and bare skin. There was no beauty to spare out there this morning and he knew at once that he needed to act.

He turned, moving over to the heat and turning it up higher than he normally would have tolerated. He could make himself comfortable, but it would be much harder for her. And then he looked at the TARDIS. He needed a fresh set of clothes and a shower more than he cared to admit. But first, he needed to clean.

It took some effort, but the thought of Donna coming into the room looking like that made him start on the piles. When he was done, it was still a mess. But it was less chaotic, more like his normal sort of organization.

The Doctor thought Donna was the sort who would like a nice coffee, and he thought she'd be less likely to slap him if he didn't expect her to make it the moment that she arrived.

With the sun slipping up over the horizon, he moved on to the TARDIS. He stopped, his hearts beating too fast. Better to do this now, since he had told Donna they would be entering later, because she would notice his reluctance.

The Doctor pushed the door open slowly and stepped in. It closed softly behind him, the click a reminder of all that had happened to him. This place had become a tomb, and a place for new life. He had died and been reborn, and lost and cried.

The TARDIS hummed gently, but he couldn't bear to accept her comfort.

The wardrobe was close, and he shuffled over, pushing it open. He stepped into the lowest level, and slowly made his way up the stairs. This place was insistent on the men he had been. The mirrors had seen all new faces, and new hands had spent hours looking through these clothes.

He'd be standing there, studying himself, trying to erase the look of betrayal that they'd often carried on their faces. And he'd long to show them how much he was the same, while he secretly tried to figure out how much he was different.

The Doctor slowly slid to the floor. Tears flowed freely, and after a few moments, he stopped trying to wipe them. He leaned back, against the soft padding of the clothes behind him, and tried hard to let go, because this holding on was slowly killing him

He needed Donna, because he had forgotten how to save himself. He wasn't sure he could anymore.

DW

Donna awoke in the early light, a dark feeling crowding around her shoulders.

She had drank too much last night, trying to drown everything she couldn't bear to look in the eye. After she had left the Doctor's she had bought the bottle, and snuck up to her room. She felt like a teenager, but also with the crushing weight of her current situation. The bottle lay half empty on the nightstand, reminding her of the ache that filled her head and heart.

She had awoke with the Doctor's face in her mind, with Lance's words still lashing at her, making the inflicted wounds feel fresh once more.

And now her head was full, pounding with every movement. Today would have been a perfect day to stay in bed, to stay under the covers in the protection of the silent room.

But the Doctor was counting on her, and her mother would never stand for her giving up, and this would be giving up. Never had it sounded like such an option, forgetting the world, letting it go on without her. She'd hardly be missed.

She sighed softly, throwing the covers off. A cold chill swept over her, but she quickly rose, dressing in the silence. She pulled on her coat, zipping it and looking herself over once in the mirror. Her eyes were red, dark circles under them. He'd surely know she'd had another rough night, but she couldn't bring herself to find the supplies to hide it.

Her mother was already awake, the smell of coffee and something warm and sweet reaching her nose as she opened up her bedroom door. It was tempting to stop, her stomach growling, and then rolling. She didn't need a lecture and the act of kindness had all the makings of a trap. So, she bypassed her mother, and slipped out the door. She thought she heard her mother's voice call out behind her, but she pressed on.

The air outside was frigid, the wind making the steps in the direction of the Doctor's house slow and laborious. It slapped against her cheeks and she shoved her hands into her pockets. She glanced back at her parent's house, light and warmth seeming to seep from it. The temptation to turn back was quickly overruled, and she stomped forward, resolved to see this through.

His porch was bare, the inside of his house dim, though the blind she had opened, remained opened. She knocked on the door, softly, looking up and down the street. When he didn't answer, she let out a small sigh, knocking louder. This time, though, the door opened beneath her hand.

Donna pushed it open a little farther, peeking into the hallway. She glanced at the street once more, before stepping in.

"Well, " she muttered to herself. "That's not creepy at all."

She closed the door behind her, flipping on the lamp in the entryway. There didn't seem to be any noise, and she heard no sign of life.

"Doctor?" she called out. "Are you in here?"

The only response came in the form of a loud hum, that reached her even out into the hall. She followed it down, noting that he had done some cleaning before he had done his disappearing, and stopped right at the TARDIS.

She turned, studying the room, but it was only her and this blue box in here. After a moment, she gently pressed her hand against the TARDIS, feeling foolish but then she had been there before.

"What is it?" she asked. "Where'd he run off to?"

The intensity of the humming only seemed to increase, and she felt the vibrations against her palm. She lowered it, pushing the TARDIS door open. It gave at once, revealing a dim TARDIS console room, but once more the Doctor didn't seem to be present.

Something had to be wrong, but she refused to give into fear. She was going to find him, and he was going to be fine. He had to be fine.

"Doctor?" she called out once more. "Where are you, you silly Martian?"

Soft images formed in her mind, cloudy all around the edges, but she knew it was clothes. It took a moment, a brief flash of anger realizing that the TARDIS was in her mind, before she could get her feet moving.

She moved slowly, unsure of her step, though the ground was steady beneath her feet. When she came to a large door, she slowly pushed it open.

The air in here seemed cooler, and when she stepped inside, she saw levels of clothes. Mirrors were scattered around her current level, clothes from what seemed to be countless years of fashion from Earth, and even beyond filled the walls.

She blinked, slowly, and then carefully made her way to the stairs.

"Doctor?" she called out again, moving up slowly. "Come on, Doctor. Are you in here?"

She heard the soft sound of shuffling, and she hurried up the last of the steps. She found him, sitting up, shoulders slumped. He was looking at the ground at first, but when she looked up his dark eyes were red-rimmed.

"Oh, Doctor," she said, softly, coming over and sitting down beside him. "What happened?"

He leaned against her after a moment, and she turned, hugging him.

"I don't know," he said. "I was just going to go get some coffee, and then...it was all too much."

She nodded, and pressed a quick to his head. It felt like her world was falling apart, and she knew that it was nothing compared to what he had seen, and had done to him. So, she kept silent. If there was time for her, if she ever felt like falling apart, and trusted him enough to bear witness, then that time would wait.

"What can I do to help?" she asked, pulling back to look up at him.

"What do I do now?" he asked, sounding like a child.

She let out a slow breath, and climbed to her feet. She held out a hand down to him, and his was cool and wet when he took hers.

"Come on," she said. "I'll show you."


	5. Chapter 5

Donna didn't know who was holding onto each other tighter. Hands clasped together, a tug of war of need. With hers threatening to float her away, and him holding on like a man on the verge of drowning. But neither let go, and she led him out of the TARDIS, and he closed the door behind them.

For a moment, it was nothing more than a partnership of despair.

The air outside of the TARDIS seemed positively alive compared the stillness within, and she looked around the room. They couldn't stay here, not really.

Despite the cold outside these walls, she knew that's what they needed. The breath of life, to shiver against nature, and remember that they weren't as big as these struggles were making them feel.

Letting go of his hand, and ignoring the hurt look that passed his face before he could contain it, she moved on to tug her gloves on once more.

"We're going out," she announced.

He stared at her, dark circles were now accented by red eyes, but then he nodded. She saw him hurry off, down the hall, to rooms she had yet to see- and when he returned he had on a coat.

It was a short and a dark blue that suited him. Out of the suit though, he seemed so different, so breakably human that she couldn't bear to do anything more than head for the door.

"Donna?" he asked, as he hurried off after her. "It's really quite cold."

She paused. If they stayed here, they were going to drown. There was too much emotion, flowing out of them, and the bigger on the inside machine to be contained at the moment.

"If it's too cold for you, Martian," she said. "Then we can stay inside. You should have said something right off, how am I supposed to know what you space people can handle."

She watched him for a moment, hope daring to balloon up inside her. She needed him to be prideful, was certain that it still lived in there with him, even if he was too broken to really show it.

"I was only worried about you," he said, after a moment, pulling the door open and stepping out.

His tone was sharp, and she thought a few days ago, he would have argued they had stayed inside anyway, but this felt like a victory to Donna as she stepped out into the brutal air. And right now, that was something to be hopeful about.

DW

He knew that she was issuing a challenge when she expressed fake concern over him, and it annoyed him- but still he stood on his small porch with her now. She had won, and that annoyed him as well.

He glanced over at her, red disappearing beneath her hood as she raised it. Her pale face vanished from his view in an effort-however vain it would come to be- to block the wind from her cheeks.

Still, it was probably for the best. Grief had turned to anger, and he didn't want to burn her if he became an explosion. So he took off down the street, with her following closely behind. They didn't speak, throwing themselves into wind, that seemed to have no other purpose than to drive them back.

He only glanced at her, when she moved beside him. Not daring to trust himself with his words still, he moved his eyes forward. She was freezing, he was certain.

And he knew what he should be doing, what the kind-still good and at least mostly sane part of him would be doing- and that was turning them around. The Doctor knew she needed to be inside, away from the snow that had started to drop around them.

Still, he said nothing. He'd stayed...well, not for her- but near her...and that was for them both. And now, he was so angry, he wished he hadn't. That he'd taken off somewhere and met somewhere new...and she had stopped.

He realized that tears were prickling his eyes, and he wanted to blame the wind. But he turned to her. She looked sympathetic and it was too much to handle.

"Why are you here?" he asked, before turning from her. He titled his head up and glared at the sky. "You wouldn't come when I needed you, Donna. When I asked you to come, so why the hell are you here now?"

"You got something you need to get out, Martian," she asked, coldly, calmly.

"A few things actually," he said, spinning on her. He didn't bother to lower his voice, they were alone on the street, and the cruel wind was suddenly a friend, willing to carry his venomous words far from waiting ears. But not her ears.

"I'm waiting," she said, crossing her arms.

He wished the red in her cheeks, dulled the inferno in him. He wished her watering eyes were the wind, and that he pulled her into a hug, right now. But he was stumbling out of control, as he had been with the tears, and he was suddenly determined to take her down with him.

He would hate himself for it soon enough, he knew. But right now, it felt like a storm that had been coming for ages.

"Why?" he asked, his voice dark. "Why do you stupid little humans get this planet, each other? Why do I fight for you to keep it over and over again? I should let it burn! That's what would be fair. If ever single planet burned like mine did. If everyone lost everything, in a fire that couldn't be stopped."

A flash of anger crossed Donna's face, but she kept her mouth shut. He had expected anger to match his. He was ready to scream until his throat had enough, but she didn't speak.

"Why?" he asked again. "Why do I have to lose everything over and over, and why can't I ever keep the things I want most in my life?! How is any of this fair?!"

"It's not," she said, after a moment.

Then she turned from him, walking back towards her house. He stared at her back, and deflated. He expected...wanted a challenge from her. Wanted her to scream about the fiancé that had shattered something Donna had been building for ages. He wanted her to shout about all the little traumas she had endured, and he wanted her to feel like he felt.

But she didn't slow, didn't stop. She didn't compare one shattered universe to another, and he felt the anger burn up.

"Donna!" he called into the wind, but he was certain that she couldn't hear.

And he didn't deserve for her to stop, even if she had.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since I've updated this, but I hope you still enjoy :) Inspired and aided by SonicZeyphr over on tumblr.

Donna pulled the cup up to her lips, let the scalding liquid pass over her tongue without tasting it. It didn't matter. It warmed her anyway.

She shouldn't be here-should have just gone home like she had first planned. She could have easily crawled into bed, pulled the covers up over her head and tried to sleep away the ache in her chest. Instead, she had bought a coffee, and planted herself on this snow covered bench.

Anything to avoid her mother a few minutes longer.

Still, home had to happen sooner rather than later.

Donna tipped the last of the coffee into her mouth. Her heart already pounded, her head beating in time with it. She'd sleep-for at least a week. Then she'd get up and do what she always did. She'd start over. A new job, a millionth second chance.

She'd forget all about the Doctor, and the haunted look in his eyes when he spoke of planets burning. His planet? She hadn't asked-hadn't stuck around long enough for her indignation to fade enough to do it.

Drawing in a long breath, she resigned herself to getting up when someone flopped down beside her. The bench wobbled, creaked in protest, and Donna jerked her head to the right. Him. Of course.

"How did you know where I was?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. A horrible thought occurred to her. "Did you follow me?! You're some sort of...space stalker!"

"Donna-" the Doctor said, blinking a few times. "I'm not- I used to the TARDIS to-"

"To stalk me!"

The Doctor let out a long sigh, dropped his weight back against the bench and muttered to himself. Something about 'apes', she thought. She let it slide, watching him for any signs of foul play.

Mostly, he just looked tired. Exhausted, even.

"Fine," she said, after another moment. "But if I find out you're some sort of Martian stalker..."

His eyes flickered to her for a moment, then went back to staring straight ahead.

"I'm not from Mars," he finally said.

"Didn't deny the stalking," she said, but found herself relaxing beside him anyway. "Space creep."

He let out a breath. Nearly a laugh. He met her eye again, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Donna."

He said it on an exhale, the bench wobbling as he drew his leg up on it to face her more. He brushed hair away from his forehead.

Okay, so maybe they'd have to have a talk about humans and their boundaries, but Donna thought it could wait a little longer. When he looked more like a person, and less like a kicked puppy.

Sighing, she looked him over-the lack of coat, gloves, anything to protect him from the piercing wind.

"You'll freeze to death," she said. "Not even wearing gloves."

He looked down at his hands, brow wrinkling up. She watched his fingers flex and relax again. When he looked up, his mouth twitched at the corners.

Right, an alien. Probably didn't even need gloves. For all she knew, his fingers-his whole body- absorbed the cold and used it as fuel.

A few days ago, the idea would have been laughable. Of course, she hadn't seen the dawn of her own planet a few days ago. This didn't seem the time to be taking any ideas off the table for being too farfetched.

The thought brought a smile to her own face. Donna stared down into her empty cup.

Her whole world had changed. She couldn't take that back. And all of that unknown should be scaring her to death-it had days ago. Now, it pulled and twisted and she wanted more. She wanted to see more, learn more, do more. Sane and reasonable didn't matter all that much with an alien at her side, and the center of the Earth being...well, what it happened to be.

The less she knew, the more alive she seemed to feel.

"Don't need them."

His voice brought her back. Just a touch smug, very matter-of-fact. She let out a breath, looked back up at him.

"Well, how would I know what aliens need?"

"My people-" he said, cleared his throat."I-I don't get cold very easily."

He stopped smiling, his eyes a universe and lifetime away again. Donna reached out, touched his arm.

"Tell me about them," she said. "About your people. Your planet."

His eyes dropped to her hand, jumped back up to her face. His jaw tightened, hands curled up in his lap.

Something passed over his face. Hurt or regret - he probably had a few lifetime supplies of both to spare. The Doctor stood, held out his hand.

"Not here," he said, wiggled his fingers.

Donna slipped her hand into his, stood, and let him lead her back.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------  
They'd ended up in the TARDIS library. She'd settled onto the couch closest to the fake fireplace, the Doctor dropping down onto the couch opposite her. With the blanket over her lap, and the heat warming her up slowly, she felt more sleepy than she cared to admit.

She blinked over at him. The light flickered across his face, beyond him to the shelves lined with books - she'd have to look around if she got a proper chance. He'd changed into a long sleeve shirt in the time he'd gone to retrieve her food and tea.

"Eat," he said, nodding to the table that divided the couches.

Donna looked down, steam rising up out of the bowl. Her stomach growled on command. She reached for it, eyed him as she pulled it to her lap.

"You're not having some?" she asked.

"I don't-" he started, shifted and then sighed. "Won't be a moment."

He hurried from the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

Donna grinned, took a bite of the soup. Then another. She'd skipped breakfast - skipped a lot of meals as of late. And while she never would have thought of him as much of a cook - had no actual proof he hadn't somehow replicated it, or something equally spacey - he'd done a good job with this.

Donna shifted to look around the room. Books lined every wall, the shelves a deep colored wood. The couches were worn, soft. The only evidence of the sort of technology she'd seen on the walk into here was the panel near the door. A cataloging system, she'd bet.

She returned her attention to the fire when the door opened again. The Doctor moved around the side of her couch, settled back down onto his. She watched him stare down into his bowl, look up at her, and finally grab the spoon. He swallowed, took a bite, and swallowed again.

They ate in near silence, the sounds of spoons on dishes, and the fake crackle that came from her left side the only noises. Her eyes felt heavy, her stomach full. She traded the bowl for the mug of tea-somehow still warm-and took a long sip.

Just a hint of sweetness, exactly as she liked. She opened her mouth to ask him how he knew it, and then closed it again. If it turned out that he could read her thoughts, and he hadn't asked permission, she'd probably have to smack him. Donna glanced at him as he finished his food.

It could wait.

Yawning, Donna drew her legs up onto the couch and covered them once more. Probably, she shouldn't be getting quite so comfortable with the man-alien man- who was technically still her boss.

She looked up him. He smiled, dropped his bowl onto the table and the spoon rattled inside it. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by her slow blinks, and her leaning against his couch as if she'd done it a few hundred times. Actually, he looked more relaxed than she'd seen in...well, ever.

"Right," he said, taking in a breath. "Where to start?"

**DW**

He didn't want to tell her the dark parts. Of course he didn't. Some things didn't need to see the light of day again, but once he'd started he couldn't seem to stop. It poured out from him, all the pain and loss flowing for the first time since it had happened.

And it felt so good to share it, just this once, before he buried it all inside him again.

She listened silently. Leaning forward from time to time, her mouth pulling up early on and tears falling freely as he brought it to its end. He swallowed the same lump again and again, forced the words out when his voice grew tight and hoarse with hurt.

Finally, when he had nothing left, he leaned back against the couch. The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his cheeks, wiped the tears away. Donna let out a breath, the couch squeaked.

He didn't want to look at her. Didn't want to face whatever might be in her eyes. Condemnation, understanding, he couldn't imagine what she must think of him now.

_If I scared her before..._

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," she said.

He nodded, because he couldn't find the words. Because sorry had never brought anyone back, and they both knew it. He dropped his head back against the couch, the material cool against his neck. The fire had warmed him too much, made his skin itch with the heat. He ignored it. So long as she felt okay.

Maybe she'd stay a few more minutes, and a few more after that.

He'd burn, slowly but surely, if it meant she'd stay a little longer.

"Tell me more," she said.

He glanced at her.

"Not the sad stuff," she said, leaning more against the arm of his couch. "About the planet. The pretty stuff."

"Okay," he said, after a moment.

He started talking, and her eyes closed. He kept talking, until her breathing went slow. Even. Peaceful.

The Doctor swallowed. He should wake her, really. Should have sent her home long before she could have gotten this tired. Her mother might wander around, knock on his door-the house door of course- and demand her daughter.

She seemed like a slapper, too.

The Doctor smiled.

Five minutes. He'd let Donna sleep five minutes. He could read a few books in that time.

He stepped over to her, pulled the blankets up over her shoulder - nearly brushed her hair away from her face, before dropping his hand to his side.

Spinning away, the Doctor headed for the shelves.


	7. Chapter 7

"Doctor!"

Something landed over the Doctor's head, finishing what hearing his name had started - yanking him the rest of the way from his dream. He could just make out a voice, movement, through the muffling of the material over his ear.

A blanket, if he had to hazard a guess. He breathed in deeply. Everything smelled of strawberries. The artificial scent filled up his nose, his lungs, left him teetering on the edge of lightheaded as he pushed himself upright.

Giving the blanket a tug, he quickly sucked in a breath of non-human scented air, and dared to glance across the table at the muttering and moving person on the opposite side.

She froze, slowly turned to look at him. Her cheeks had gone red, nearly the exact shade of her hair actually. A fever? Too warm? He glanced at the fire, fumbled for the sonic. Three clicks and the crackling ceased, the heat began to recede from them. He glanced back at her, but the sharp look in her eyes remained.

Not that, then. Oh. Anger. The realization washed over him slowly, but he'd been living with humans long enough it should have been his first guess. He surely should have heard the warning bells that had accompanied the blanket she'd thrown at him.

Still, he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason behind her anger. What could he have done that might have upset her so much? Had he smarted off in his sleep? Or maybe he had insulted her entire species again. He did do that - fondly, of course.

Maybe he'd forgotten a date. Humans liked their celebrations. (So did he, if he were being honest). Her birthday, perhaps? That must be it, he'd forgotten her birthday like the clueless alien she'd surely call him when she did finally decide to speak.

He blinked a few times. No, that couldn't be it. He barely knew Donna, only about a week now. He'd not asked about her birthday yet, and he couldn't forget something he had never known. Well, he could actually, if-

No. _Focus._ He had to think.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Doctor?" she asked, turning away. He jerked his attention back to her, as she answered herself, "It's four in the morning. Do you know what my mother will think if I come strolling in at four in the morning in the same clothes as the day before, Doctor?"

He swallowed. _Four in the morning._ He'd overslept. He'd let her oversleep. A lot.

"She'll think I slept with you!" Donna said, shooting him another glare as she balanced with one hand on the couch cushion, the other trying to shove her shoe back on properly." She'll be unbearable. More unbearable."

"I'm so sorry, Donna."

He stood.

Inching his way around the table, he saw her shoulders lift and fall before she scooped her coat off the couch.

"I am, Donna," he insisted, reaching out to touch her shoulder. He dropped his hand back to his side. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I can go there with you. I can explain to her. I'll take tell her we didn't...you know, sleep together. At least not like... that."

She rolled her eyes.

"'Cause you showing up with me will really convince her of that, Doctor, "she said, then shook her head. "It's fine. It wouldn't be the first time, probably won't be the last."

His jaw tightened in response.

He watched her deflate before him - arms holding the coat going limp. It dangled from her fingertips, but she didn't run. She didn't hit him and she didn't yell. She yawned. Coffee. He could do coffee.

"Well, Donna," he said, rocking onto the balls of his feet, and forcing cheer into his voice. "It's already-" he glanced at the clock on the far wall "- four fifteen. Surely another hour or two won't change her opinion on what we did or didn't do here tonight."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Just what are you suggesting, Doctor?"

"Breakfast," he hurried to say, dropping back onto his heels. "Breakfast, Donna. Coffee. Food. Company."

She met his eye, shifted her weight, then with a long exhale she tossed her coat onto the couch again.

"All right," she said. "What're we having, Spaceman."

* * *

Between the two of them, they'd managed to find the supplies for breakfast. For a brief moment, as he'd walked down the hall with her hand tucked into his, he'd imagined he'd find all the cupboards bare. She'd resume her glaring, and yank her hand free and that would be it. She'd be gone, leaving him in the room alone.

Instead, she'd rounded up the supplies for pancakes, tossed a package of bacon at him with an eye roll that suggested she could read his face loud and clear.

Donna stood next to him, chatting as he flipped the bacon around and she stirred the contents of her bowl.

"You're staring at me," she said, glancing at him. "It's weird. Is it an alien thing?"

He coughed, pulled his eyes back to the sizzling meat in the pan below him. He tapped his fingers against the counter.

"I wasn't staring, " he finally said. "Time Lords don't stare."

"Well, maybe not them," she said. Metal clanked against glass. "But you were. Got something on my face?"

She brushed her fingers over both cheeks, pink again, with the heat spreading out across the small kitchen. The color looked lovely on her. She looked lovely.

He swallowed around the guilt and regret that flared up inside him.

"No, nothing on your face," he said. "We just...Rose, and I, well, Martha too, really. We didn't cook all that much. Ever, actually. Too busy to stop, I guess."

Always too busy, he could see now. Always too busy, always running. Off to their next adventure, their next world, too fast for him to hold onto the little moments, however fleeting, while they were still his to hold.

But, for the first time in a long time - had to be lifetimes - it didn't matter that he had the universe waiting just outside his doors. It didn't matter that Donna might very well let him whisk her off somewhere - at least for a day.

He watched her check the consistency of her mixture and found he didn't feel the itching, aching, need to run. Not yet anyway. Not for this moment, right now. With her.

"Are you okay, Doctor?"

He glanced at her.

"Always,' he said, so automatic now - off his lips before he could consider the truth of it. He exhaled, added, "It's nice to have some company. Thanks, Donna."

She nodded, met his eye.

"Can't cook if you're blocking the stove, Martian," she said.

He felt inexplicably shy in her gaze, and he quickly turned his attention to the coffee pot before he could over think it. The smell of pancakes filled the room, and if she noticed his stomach growling, she didn't comment.

He added the bacon to the stacks divided across two plates, and he carried them both to the table. She followed after with their mugs.

The whole thing felt cozy. Domestic even. Not that he would dare to say it aloud. He could only imagine how Donna might react to the admission. No, he'd keep it to himself, but he couldn't miss the way she relaxed back into the chair. Or the way her eyes slipped closed as she took that first sip of coffee, a low noise of pleasure escaping out over her lips.

Her eyes snapped open, and he scooped up his fork and tried to pretend he hadn't been just a bit entranced.

It scared him how much he wanted her to stay.

Donna took a bite, smiled at him as she chewed.

"So, big old time machine. Must have something more interesting than a kitchen and a library?"

He grinned, leaned in. Talking about the TARDIS came easily to him. He told her all about the pool that vanished from time to time, and the large bath somewhere on the third level. He told her about the gardens and dozens of other silly little rooms.

He didn't dare tell her everything, though. He couldn't mention the rooms that always ended up together, tucked away somewhere in the back of the TARDIS. He'd already unloaded enough sadness and darkness on her to last a good long while. If he had any hopes of convincing her, or himself, that they could take off one day and return to the universe, he needed to keep it locked inside.

Where it belonged.

**DW**

"Fine, you go."

The words were purposely loud, marked with a finality that Donna felt certain few had ever had the courage to disobey. She could think of nothing, at the moment, more frightening than her mother before her coffee.

She should have known better than to hope she could escape upstairs without being noticed. Turning, she dropped her coat on the rack and fussed with the sleeves until the floorboard creaked behind her.

Donna found her father standing there with a piece of toast in one hand, and a mug of tea in the other. He took a bite, the toast crunching as dark jam spread across his upper lip. She waited while he chewed, then finally swallowed.

"Your mother wanted me to tell you that -"

"Just where the hell were you all night?"

Donna blinked. Her father's eyes flickered to the left, as her mother came into view. He gave Donna a sympathetic smile, shoved another bite of toast into his mouth, and sunk back into the shadows.

She shifted her focus to her mother. Her mouth had gone thin and pale. Her eyes crinkled up tightly at the edges. Donna knew the look well, had encountered it numerous times in her younger years, when she'd stumbled in at some ungodly hour. Some things, it seemed, didn't change with age.

Her mouth still went dry. She resisted the urge to take a step back, to wipe her palms against her shirt.

"Not even a phone call," Sylvia said, fingers dropping around her hips. Donna's arms slipped to her sides at once. "Your father and I were worried, not that you'd care. You could have been dead in a ditch."

She knew the speech by heart, too.

"I didn't mean to worry you," Donna finally said. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry," Sylvia repeated. "That won't give us a night's sleep back, will it? And just where do you think you were? Here you are slinking in wearing the same clothes as the day before. Women your age should not be out partying all night, Donna."

Donna's eyebrows shot up, her fist curled at her side.

"Women my-" she started, snapped her mouth shut. Exhaling slowly, she attempted to count to ten before giving up and thinking only of returning to the TARDIS and the Doctor. A shouting match with her mother would only delay that. "I wasn't out partying. I just got caught up..."

"A man, then," Sylvia said. "And so soon after Lance." His name caught Donna between her ribs, and she rubbed a hand over her side. Her mother didn't seem to notice. "Who was it? No, don't even tell me. Going to wind up pregnant, you are. Pregnant, with no job, living with your parents. What then, Donna?"

She felt rage and grief bubbling up inside her, and if either escaped, she didn't think she'd make it back to the Doctor's today. She wouldn't let her mother - wouldn't let Lance's memory - ruin this for her.

"Suppose I'll name the baby after you."

Her mother gasped, sputtered. Donna forced herself to turn away, hurried off up the stairs and into her bedroom. She just resisted an all too teenage urge to slam her door. Baby steps. Dropping onto her bed, Donna sighed, and pulled off her damp shoes and let them drop down onto the floor next to the growing heap of clothes.

_TARDIS probably has a washing machine..._

Stripping off yesterdays clothes, she dropped them without looking back.

Donna allowed herself the luxury of stomping her way into the bathroom. She shoved the shower handle all the way to heat, tapped her foot as steam slowly filled the room and blurred her reflection. Only then did the first layer of rage fall away.

Stepping into the shower, she scrubbed, until the heat burned up the last of her feelings. The smell of strawberries soothed her, and when she stepped out again her breath had finally stopped coming in pants.

She stared at her clothes, and finally pulled out the most comfortable outfit she had. The oversized sweatshirt wouldn't do her figure any favors, but the material had been washed into a comforting softness.

It didn't matter anyway, she realized, as she dressed. She had no one to impress. The Doctor...well, she didn't think he counted in that department. Sure, he'd had the 'friend'. But friend could mean anything to an alien like him.

Her fingers tightened around her hair brush. Alien. The word rolled around inside her head as if she'd been saying it casually her whole life. As if she'd met loads of them, and skinny streaks of nothing were old news.

If only Lance could see her now. No, she wouldn't think of him. He didn't matter. That didn't matter.

She dropped her brush back onto her dresser and turned away. Donna headed down the stairs, fully aware that her parents had to hear her. Neither of them reappeared as she pulled her coat from the rack and opened the front door.

Probably her father would plead her case, whatever he decided that to be, and her mother would settle to somewhere near a low boil by the time Donna returned.

If not...well, she had hours separating her and that.

Hours, and the Doctor. Donna stepped outside, stood still as she breathed in the winter air. She let the icy wind whip up inside her shirt before finally pulling on her coat and zipping it.

She felt alive. She hadn't even known she'd been missing the feeling all these years, until it crashed over her on Christmas. How could she ever go back?

Donna smiled, kept smiling, as she shoved her hands into her pockets and started the short walk back to the Doctor.

 _I do have a job_ , she remembered, too late to do any good.

* * *

His eyebrows shot up as she stepped back into the TARDIS, as if they hadn't spoken about her return less than an hour ago. She'd even told him she'd be right back after she informed her parents she hadn't been murdered, and to call off the police.

He looked so pleased to see her, though, feet dropping down off the console as he leaned up, that she didn't mention it.

"Donna," he said. "You're back. Brilliant."

"I'm back," she agreed.

Stepping in closer, Donna ran her fingers over the console. Cool and solid beneath her fingertips, though the contact seemed to stretch right up into her arm. She trailed her fingers along, careful to avoid the buttons and levers as she did. Any of them could be the one to send them off into the past, or some sort of space void. Still - beautiful. The whole thing was frightening and beautiful. Sort of like the Doctor, actually.

"Donna?"

Her face flushed and she yanked her hand away. She tried to force her thoughts into something passive - still didn't know if he could read minds. Donna looked back at him. His fingers rested on the console, his head tilted as the pitch of the hum around them softened.

"She likes you."

He met her eyes, and she didn't doubt the truth of his words for a moment. Even if she didn't know what to do with the knowledge.

Donna stepped in closer, and he stood up off the seat.

"Well, then, Spaceman," she said. "What will we be working on today?"

He blinked at her, his right arm slowly folded up and his fingers tugged at his ear. His eyes rolled from one side of the room to the other.

"You forgot."

"What?" he asked, shaking his head as his arm flopped back to his side. "No, of course I didn't forget. Time Lords don't forget. Great big massive brains, Donna. Well-"

He stretched the word out, rocked onto the sides of his feet. Donna brushed by him, stood in the hall while he muttered at her back. She let him work it out aloud, only caught about half the words anyway. He'd have to circle back to something relevant eventually, she'd jump back on the ride then.

Probably.

"The library!"

Donna jumped and spun back around to face him. She crossed her arms up over her chest and tried to ignore the way her heart beat inside her throat.

"Excuse me?"

"The library," he said, stepping around her, heading down the hall. He paused, looked back over his shoulder."Are you coming?"

She hurried after him, caught up near the kitchen.

"Been meaning to work in there for ages," he said, glancing at her. "Well, I say ages. A year. About a year. A few months."

Minutes, more likely.

She said nothing, kept his pace. Shoving the library door open, the Doctor patted his pockets as he stepped inside. He pulled out a yo-yo, followed by a ball of something fuzzy that he sniffed but thankfully didn't lick.

He motioned for her to take them, dropped them into her hands as he went back to searching. He added three buttons, and what looked like a bean before he found the sonic. She heard it buzz, glanced up as the fireplace flickered back into existence.

He scooped up her handfuls, dropped them back into his pocket and grinned.

"There we are," he said. "Now, work. This way, Donna."

One right and two lefts later, she found herself tucked away into the library's depths. The path he'd led them on had stretched out farther still, and she wondered how long it would actually take to work her way through the shelves. Part of her, all of her actually, hoped she'd get the chance to find out.

"You can start here," he said, nodding at the shelves. "I'll work in the -" he made a vague gesture over his shoulder "-section. I won't be far. Just shout if you need anything."

He backed away from her, disappeared around the corner. She waited until his footsteps faded to sigh.

In the absence of actual instruction, she stepped in closer to try to figure out what needed work. There seemed to be an order here, each book lined up perfectly with the one at its side. Even the shelves were dust free.

Donna turned, ready to shout for the Doctor - she'd get him to admit even he didn't know why they were here, and they could move on - when she spotted the over plump arm chair. Next to it stood a table, a book flat on its surface. It all looked worn, old, snatched from history and forgotten in this corner.

Glancing over her shoulder, Donna inched in closer. She half-expected the book to bite. Or shout. Anything that a book shouldn't be doing, really. Reaching out, she tapped the cover.

Silence.

Her fingers remained whole. She picked it up. Running her fingertips down over the cover, she tipped it up to read the spine. Nothing. Odd. Dropping down into the chair, she settled it out over her lap and flipped to the first page.

A drawing with snippets of words. Well, still a bit unusual. A children's book, perhaps. She flipped another page. Nope. Not a children's book. Donna flipped through several more pages, stopped and stared. Two stick like creatures faced each other, their long antennas wrapping around each other's-

"Doctor?" she called out. "What's a loomix?"

He coughed. Something fell. She heard several rapid footsteps and his head peeked into view.

"What?"

She held up the book, felt certain his species must not be capable of blushing because his face remained the same steady pale color. Even if his throat bobbed a telling number of times.

"Nothing," he said, straightening up. "Didn't translate properly. TARDIS must be on the blink. I'll go sort that."

She watched him vanish, snapped the book shut.

"Yeah, right," she muttered, dropping the book back onto the table. If this whole section turned out to be space porn, she'd slap him. After she perused, of course.

Donna plucked another book off the shelf, flipped it open. Words. A nice start. She backed up to the chair, dropped down and turned another page. A boy. A girl. Easy enough. She leaned back, wiggled until she got comfortable.

She lost track of time, had made it halfway through the book before her breath caught. Her mind rolled back to Lance. He'd never been as sweet as Ilgor (the blue-skinned alien of her suddenly developed dreams). Actually, he had once. Right after he'd agreed to marry her.

He'd taken her to this quiet little place. They'd had a nice dinner. He'd walked her home, kissed her goodnight. She'd felt...special. Really and properly special. For the first time. She'd felt so happy. That alone should have been her red flag.

A tear dropped onto the page, and Donna smoothed it over with her finger. The water trail spread to the edge and she shut the book before another could soak into the paper.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have believed in him? Or that she might find her happy ending. They didn't exist. Not for her. Not for someone who cared too much about gossip and too little about proper news. Not for people who had no future, who still lived at home, who-

She let out a soft sob, the book slid off her legs and onto the floor. The sound echoed, too loud against her ears, as she pulled her legs up to her chest and let herself finally feel it all.

 


End file.
